The monk who was driving the van had got us up so early and I felt really tired. That’s the thing with monks – they get up early, and they think everyone else should get up early as well. I’d tried to start a conversation with him when we started out, but he wasn’t much of a talker. In fact, you’d think he’d took a vow of silence, the way he hung on to his words. He was worse than the Lump. When I looked behind me she was staring excitedly into a comic. I couldn’t believe how excited she looked. I’d told her she could have all my old manga and she’d carried every one of them to her room; there must have been a hundred. She never even read the words, she just speed-scanned the pictures. Her head twitched from side to side and her eyes flickered over the images. And as they did her facial expressions changed. She went from being happy to sad and from angry to scared. It was like watching a computerized emoticon flick through its whole range of expressions. Then her face froze into a ‘what the hell’s going on here?’ look, and then she glared at me like it was my fault.
What do You think about Summertime Of The Dead (2012)?
